The lily’s leaves are browning. I don’t know how to help. I’ve moved it in and out of sunlight and watered it more or less. It doesn’t want to thrive. I understand. It’s old now, half a decade at least, the roots must be knotted and cramped against the terracotta hull. Does it imagine there’s more to be had while it curls against its cage and feeds upon itself? Does it know open fields and boundless soil? I’ve never said anything, but the knowledge must be inside it, the pent potential of all living things trying to live more.
Nic Addenbrooke is a freelance writer, editor, content creator, radio broadcaster, part-time poet and sometimes artist. Nic has been coming to terms with existence for years. He currently lives and works in Brisbane where he struggles to turn the cacophony of voices in his head into things of substance. It doesn’t always work but occasionally produces a nice veneer of sanity.